Feel No More (Feel No Less)
by MissingMommy
Summary: Myrtle tries to drown her sorrows about loving a man she can never have, and ends up in love with a woman she just met. :: unrequited!MyrtleTom, unrequited!MyrtleMinerva ft. bartender!Binns, for Lo


For babe. Somehow, we continue to start revolutions.

* * *

The Fountain of Fair Fortune isn't fancy or anything, but it _is_ nearly empty— just a telly playing behind the bar and a handful of patrons—when Myrtle slips inside. She should be getting lunch instead of being in a pub, but she doesn't care. She doesn't meet anyone's eyes as she slides onto the barstool, rubbing the tears away angrily, sniffling. A man passing by makes an offhand comment about her tears, and it just fuels the inferno of red-hot anger in her veins.

"I am _not_ crying, okay?! I'm just allergic to jerks!" she yells, but the man is long out of the pub, and the other patrons look at her like she's a transparent liar. Turning back to the bar, she tries to ignore the scene she caused. Her cheeks are ablaze with embarrassment and she wishes she was invisible.

The man behind the bar dries a glass serenely. He assesses her from behind small, heavy looking glasses. He looks so old that Myrtle wonders how he's still standing; maybe he's like a tortoise in more of a way than just looking ancient.

"What can I get you?" he asks, throwing the hand towel over his shoulder.

She hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek. She's never been one for alcohol, but she just wants to forget the way her boss' handsome face twisted into a mocking sneer just a few minutes ago. She knew she never stood a chance with someone as rich and handsome as Tom Riddle; it still stings, though, when he mocks her for the torch she holds for him. "Something strong."

He places the glass he was cleaning on the counter and then, with a surprising speed, he mixes a drink for her. He slides the glass towards her. It's a crimson colored drink with a slice of a fresh orange on the side of the glass.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she takes a small sip. She's surprised that it doesn't burn as she swallows; it taste delicious so she can't help but take a large gulp. The effect is almost instantaneous—her head feels fuzzy and her body feels loose. All woebegone drains from her body, like all the red-hot kindling has been drenched so it can't be set on fire anymore.

She's quick to drain the glass. "Another," she demands.

The jingle of the door alerts Myrtle to another person entering. She snaps her head towards the door; the world passes her in a flash and she giggles at the feeling. When the world finally settles, Myrtle's breath catches in her chest.

The woman pays no mind to her as she takes the barstool next to her. "The usual, Binns, if you would."

The barkeep pushes another crimson drink to Myrtle and picks up another glass, pouring a healthy amount of amber liquid in it before pushing it towards the other woman. "Here you are, Matilda."

There's a hint of a smile on her face when she says, "At least you got the first letter right this time."

Myrtle takes a sip to keep herself from saying anything embarrassing. She lets her eyes flicker around the room instead. But there's nothing different about it since she arrived, beside the woman next to her that's she's trying to forget about and she can't help but overhear her conversation with the barkeep.

"It's just been a rough week, Binns. The anniversary of his death is always hard," the woman says softly, swallowing the amber liquid in one gulp. She gestures for a refill.

Myrtle drains her second glass and gestures for Binns to make her a third. Her lips are numb and her hands and feet are tingling pleasantly. She doesn't know why she hasn't done this before because it's _great_.

Halfway through her third glass, Myrtle can't keep her eyes off the woman. The woman's raven hair is pulled back into a tight bun, highlighting her beautiful and stern features. She looks like she could command a room with nothing more than her green eyes, and Myrtle feels her stomach flutter. She likes people who have the confidence she lacks; there's just something undeniably sexy about confidence.

It takes her brain a few moments to catch up to the words uncontrollably spilling from her lips. "He gave me butterflies like you do. But you're not cruel like him. I know you're not even if I don't know your name."

"I think she's had enough," she tells the barkeep, before he can slide Myrtle a fourth drink. Her green eyes are hypnotizing when she looks at her. "Where do you live?"

Myrtle just finishes her third drink as the other woman guides her off the barstool. Her body is so loose that she nearly falls over. The other woman is quick to steady her. Myrtle gives her a big smile in appreciation. "I love you."

The other woman pauses for a moment, as if she's taking that information in, and then she asks again, "Where do you live?"

Myrtle's cheeks feel as warm as flames at the question. She happily gives directions, pointing with arms that feel as light as air. She starts rubbing at her eyes and yawning halfway through the walk to her flat.

She groans when she wakes up, unable to remember when she fell asleep. The sun beaming through the curtain hurts her eyes, her head is pounding, and she feels extremely nauseous. When she sits up, the world spin quicker and it's all she can do not to throw up.

When she's about to brave the walk to her bathroom, Myrtle sees a glass of water on her bedside table with medicine next to it and a note.

 _Take this. It'll help with the hangover._

 _-Minerva_

Her heart races wildly when memory of the day before come back rushing back. She can't believe she made a fool of herself twice in one day.

Because of the same three words— _I love you_.

* * *

Hogwarts, assignment 12: Gardening Task 5: Fountain - Setting: Fountain of Fair Fortune

Character Appreciation: 5. (word) Sneer

Disney: C1 - Write about someone falling in love too easily.

Book club: Julian - (action) calling someone the wrong name, (colour) crimson, (word) liar

Showtime: 7. (plot point) falling for someone you can't have

Amber's Attic: 3. Write about getting drunk

Buttons: W5. Fancy

Lyrics: 9. Shattering anything that has reflections of you

Insane: 460. Woebegone - (Sorrowful, downcast)

365: 310. Lunch Time

(600 words) Days: World Gin Day: Write about someone getting drunk

Summer: (word) Fresh

Color: Amber

Birthstones: Topaz - (dialogue) "He/she gives me butterflies."

Flowers: Cosmos - (title) Feel No More (Feel No Less)

Eagle: 17. Myrtle Warren: (word) transparent; (object) glasses

Fairies: Fire - Flame, Burn, Fire, Kindle, Ablaze, Inferno, Anger, Fuel, Wild, Uncontrollable

World cup: Dialogue: "I am NOT crying, okay?! I'm allergic to jerks!"

Holmes: setting - a bar


End file.
